


Narcissus

by Vituperative_cupcakes



Category: Pet Shop of Horrors
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Gen, Narcissism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 06:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2015226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vituperative_cupcakes/pseuds/Vituperative_cupcakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D gets a young, beleaguered housewife as a customer. The only thing is...she doesn't want a pet. What does she want? Can D help her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Masako stepped off the elevator and into the frenetic biome of Neo Chinatown. A large, richly dressed woman attempted to board the elevator without looking where she was going and barreled into Masako’s torso. Masako stumbled into an apology bow, murmuring ‘sorry’ until the elevator doors closed. She tightened her plain cloth coat around her shoulders and looked helplessly around. The dazzling lights and rich colors served as a disruptive camouflage, almost as if they conspired to hide her true destination. She ground the ball of one foot on the tile floor as she consulted the map monument. Pet shop…pet shop…

Everything around her seemed to stop when her eyes fell on the familiar kanji. Count D. A foreign name?

Masako squashed thoughts of human trafficking stories and went forward, trying to weave her way through the afternoon crowd. She passed salons, shops, restaurants, all seemed to invite while simultaneously mocking her. She caught sight of her own plain hair in a bun in the window of a fashion boutique and steeled her shoulders. She wasn’t here for anything frivolous. She was here to save her marriage.

Masako’s path terminated in a set of lacquer doors that seemed right out of the Forbidden Palace. It only fanned the flames of her misgivings, she had to take another moment to talk herself into turning the knob. The second her hand touched the door, however, it blew outwards in a rush of perfumed air, slamming into her hip. Masako gave an almost silent cry and fell back. The elderly gentleman coming out had not bothered to look where he was going either; he was busy waving behind him with a free arm, the other struggling with the awkward bulk of a terrarium. Inside the terrarium was a fleshy-looking bloom, reticulated red and white, with a hole in its center. There was a pungent odor she was sure issued from the terrarium itself.

“Thanks a million, Count!” the man called, “let’s see Ryozaki and his _Dionaea_ beat this!”

Masako watched as the man happily paraded down the mall’s walkway, unmindful or uncaring of the people that gave him a wide berth.

“Seems happy, doesn’t he?” asked a feline voice by her ear. Masako started as if she’d been caught doing something unladylike.

“Ohayo, ano, hi, ano, _hai_ ,” she stammered.

The man before her was odd-eyed(or was it a lady with a deep voice?) with a black silk waterfall of hair. He wore a traditional Chinese outfit plastered with peonies. Masako remembered to smile without showing her teeth, which she thought of as her worst feature.

“I thought this was a pet shop,” she said, nervously winding a stray hair around her finger, “but you also sell poppies?”

The implications of what she said hit her brain a second too late to help, which had been happening a lot lately.

 _Stupid, stupid,_ she thought, _don’t let him know you think he’s a smuggler._

The man before her laughed, a rich and creamy sound, which only made Masako feel smaller.

“Not a plant enthusiast, are you?” he asked, “that little fellow couldn’t be farther from _Papaver somniferum,_ it’s called a Rafflesia. It’s normally found in South America and is noted for having some of the largest blooms in the plant kingdom. I’m assuming you smelled him?”

Masako caught herself nodding and stopped. It was impolite to agree with someone about bad things.

“That is how the Rafflesia attracts pollinators. It attracts flies with a rotten smell the same way other flowers attract bees with a sweet smell. It’s also notoriously hard to transport as it only grows from the roots of certain trees.”

“You mean like a parasite? How awful. Who would want a smelly plant like that?” Masako covered her mouth. The day was not going well.

The man laughed again, and this time Masako laughed uneasily along with him.

“I think you’ll find there’s something to love about every species,” he said, “and someone to love _in_ every species. My sincere greetings, I am D, the proprietor of this shop.”

Masako managed a small peep as he took her hand. This was it, this was really happening.

“Is there anything special you have in mind today? I carry many common pets, like cats or dogs, along with things that barely pass the C.I.T.I.E.S. list.”

Masako took a breath for courage. “Actually, I came to ask about my husband.”

D burst into laughter. “I’m sorry…you will have to give me a little more time for something on that scale.”

Which did nothing to quell her suspicions.

“No,” she said weakly, “I’m…married.” She held up the hand with her ring. D took her hand.

“Ah, diamond. Classic.”

“Actually, it’s…it’s just Rhinestone.” She said. _A plain stone for a plain girl_.

D frowned slightly as if he’d heard her thought. “Oh, nothing is _just_ anything, I think you’ll find. Please, step right this way.”

The waiting room was decorated like an imperial palace. Masako kept her hands on her knees and tried to sit small as possible, afraid to touch the fine silk upholstering the couch. D placed a steaming cup in her hand.

“So if it is not a life partner you want, how about a companion? I have something in every size and shape, scale, fur, feather and skin.”

“Actually, I’m not here to get anything,” she said apologetically, “I’m here because…because you sold my husband something, yes?” the last sentence came out in a rush.

D cocked his head. “I may have. Have a sip?”

Masako took a sip and squeaked. It felt as if she had swallowed tacks.

“Ginger and cinnamon,” D said casually, as if he hadn’t noticed her reaction, “something fiery to perk you up on a cold day.”

Masako nodded though the tears and swallowed. It burned on the way down. It felt like everything was trying to hurt her today, from the moment she stepped out of the house and caught her hem on a splinter.

“What is your husband’s name?”

“Akechi,” Masako coughed out, “Kintaro. He’s a businessman.”

D nodded and grabbed a tiny, perfect sweet from the box in front of him. “Ahhh, that does ring a bell.  But I do so hate rehashing old business. What about you?”

Masako eyed the sweets as if potential landmines waited within. She waved away D’s gesture of invitation.

“No thanks,” she said, “I’m on a diet. I’m not really in the market for a pet, Kintaro has…he’s allergic. To a lot of things.”

“Ah,” D said, as if that explained anything.

He stood abruptly. “But, may I show you around while we talk? Something may catch your fancy.”

Her throat still burned, so she could not object fast enough to stop him taking her hand and leading her down a series of fancy doors. Then air in here was thick with incense, and Masako fought the urge to close her eyes. _I don’t want get involved in anything illegal,_ she prayed, _I just want to know the truth._

“Your husband, if I remember correctly, was a very hard customer to please,” D said, “I must have shown him around the whole shop twice before he found something he liked.”

“My husband is very discriminatory,” Masako said, “he likes only the finest things.” _Except you,_ she told herself.

D once again cocked his head as if he’d heard her. “Let’s try in here.”

Even the outlandish design of the door didn’t prepare Masako for the interior. A slick boudoir more befitting Marie Antoinette sprawled before her. She got a flash impression of sleek, shining bodies before she was besieged by—

“Cats!” Masako cried in wonder.

D gave her an odd look. “Yes?”

“I just…” her cheeks burned. How could she tell a man she had only just met that she had hallucinated a room of lounging men and women for a split second. She dropped down and let a Siamese sniff her hand.

“They are lovely,” she said, “but I actually had to get rid of my last cat when I married Kintaro. It…made an annoying noise with the scratching post.”

D nodded, peering out from beneath the fringe of his hair. “Very well. How about this room…”

The same. Was she so desperate for evidence her husband was cheating on her that she would envision a stable of prostitutes? She scrubbed a Doberman’s ears with her fingers and gave D a half-smile.

“My parents have a dog,” she said, “Kintaro hates him because he puts his dirty paws up on your clothes and slobbers on your face. I have to shower every time I come back from visiting my parents.”

D quirked an eyebrow and said nothing.

He kept showing her rooms. Masako kept seeing people for a split-second after walking into the room. Was she going crazy? It would serve her right for her jealous suspicions.

She caught D’s sleeve after what seemed like the hundredth room. “Please, Mr. D. I’m very tired, and I’m not looking for an animal.”

D stood, silhouetted by a lamp behind him. “Are you sure?”

The burning in Masako’s throat had not gone away. If anything, it had intensified. She spat with an intensity that surprised her: “no, I don’t want an animal. Show me the prostitute you sold my husband!”

There. It was out.

D was unamused. “Madam, I do not sell humans here. In fact I’m a little insulted you think I would.”

The fight drained out of her. Now she had to admit it.

“I don’t….have any real evidence,” she confided in him, “all I have are suspicions. I mean, he comes home and goes right to his little room, and he doesn’t even look at me anymore and…” her eyes were misting over again. “I’m so _stupid_. I should have just come right out and asked him, but I was afraid he would say it was nothing, and I’d feel horrible for doubting him—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” D said, wrapping a conciliatory arm around her shoulders. “Would you like to see what I sold him?”

Masako sniffed and said nothing. She didn’t even feel worth acknowledging.

D led her to a glass greenhouse that was almost a mansion. She hadn’t known D’s shop extended outside the building, it was amazing. You couldn’t even see the rest of Tokyo.

Inside, the air was warm and lush. Within seconds Masako felt sticky all over. She removed her coat and peeled stray hairs away from her neck as D led the way down the aisles.

“Of course I don’t only deal in animals,” he called to her, “and certain plants can be pets of a sort. I carry many rare breeds in here, for my own enjoyment as well as other’s.”

The flowers, happily, stayed flowers. Masako felt her black mood lift as D showed her tiny green orchids, bromeliads, spiky cactus blooms, and a fat blossom that was the twin of the one in the terrarium. She pinched her nose and laughed along with D.

“He certainly is handsome, now that I get another look at him,” she joked.

D took her arm and led her to a box subdivided into many planters.

“This is my Mediterranean collection,” he said, “and this is the flower your husband sought: _Narcissus aureus_. The Golden Narcissus.”

Masako studied it. It looked like any other flower to her, but she didn’t know much of plants. She didn’t know much of anything, come to think of it.

“Named after a Greek legend, this particular strain of Narcissus has been found on only one of the Aegean islands, having been cultivated there from antiquity. A follower of Herodotus famously claimed eating them would cure gout.”

“But isn’t it toxic?” she asked.

D gave her a long look. “Is certain death the only reason to avoid a poison?”

Once they were back at the entrance, Masako slipped on her coat again. It had been tempting to never leave the greenhouse, stay in the false summer until her troubles ran away. But she had to face them.

“I’m sorry for involving you in this,” she told D. He gestured noncommittally.

“That may be, but there is no smoke without fire.”

Masako laughed. “Yeah, but I’m the one smoldering. I’m actually really lucky to have him…I get all caught up thinking I don’t deserve him. You see, my first boyfriend was abusive. He hit me, and called me worthless. Kintaro told me I was beautiful on our very first date. There’s no reason why someone like him would…choose someone like me.”

D tilted his head. “Isn’t there?”

The question echoed after her.

Masako’s throat still burned, but it had faded to an almost pleasant degree. It certainly kept her mind off the cold.  She let the lull of the taxi ride calm her thoughts. D had really just sold her husband a flower. She had imagined people where there were pets, just like she was imagining her husband having an affair…

Just like she had imagined catching a glimpse of Kintaro last night, caressing a golden-bodied man who was his exact double.


	2. Chapter 2

Masako called a greeting as she took her shoes off and put on her house slippers. Her greeting was not returned. Kintaro was probably out…or in his private room.

Unsummoned, a western fairytale popped into Masako’s head. A very rich man with a blue beard had told his wives that there was only one room in his castle they could not enter; when they invariably did, he killed them.

Masako smoothed the goosebumps on her arm by hand. “Dear?” she called.

She began cooking dinner, unable to bear the oppressive quiet of the house. Korean-style pork and noodles, Taro’s favorite since boyhood. Once it was done she ladled a large portion onto his plate and waited. The dish got cold. She finally served herself, wincing as the chili powder started her mouth burning again. No sign of her husband. Masako placed a call to his office. He had gone home hours ago, naturally. Masako apologized and lied that he had an appointment she’d forgotten until now, not wanting his office to suspect an affair and damage his reputation. Once she hung up the phone she decided to clean as a penance.

She scrubbed the shower until her hands burned from the cleaner. She beat her frustration out on the rugs. She washed every dish in the cupboards, trying not to look at her husband’s plate, laid out and waiting still.

Finally, she could not take it any longer. She knocked.

The door flew open like the door at the petshop, as if her husband had been waiting for her faith to lapse. Masako was almost sick with how handsome he was, she wanted nothing more than for him to take her up in his arms and tell her everything was all right.

Instead he said, “whoa there, little lady! Is someone getting jealous of her husband’s private time?”

Masako smiled guiltily. “I just wanted to let you know dinner is ready.”

Taro shrugged. “Ah, it’s a little late for a meal. I’ll just microwave something later, okay.”

Masako tried not to let disappointment color her voice. “But it’s your favorite.”

Taro smiled patiently and said, “Honey, my favorite meal is Shabu-shabu, remember?”

Masako stammered, fumbling for words as her brain rebelled, _no, it’s not true, he told you–_ “but I thought—”

“Well _you_ would know better than _me_ what my favorite is.” Taro shrugged and grinned. “I guess it’s a silly thing to fight over.”

Masako could feel she was losing but couldn’t figure out why or at what. “I can…I can cook something else…”

“Listen, sweetheart, it’s no big deal,” Taro said soothingly, “I know how you tire yourself out working all day. Why don’t you go relax and watch TV while I fiddle around? No reason you should wait for me.”

He chucked her under the chin. Masako finally smiled.

“I think I might do that.”

“That’s my little Masako-chan,” he told her, and shut the door in her face.

Now, take that and multiply it many times. That was what Masako’s life became. She got used to coming home to an empty house, to cooking food that wasn’t quite good enough, to letting television eat up her days. She let her appearance go, she let her everything go, and sweet Taro got concerned, insisting she do even less. Now Masako never had to clean the spare room where he kept his hobby things. But she still felt tired. And wrong.

And one night she did something horrible. She waited until her husband was asleep and went in the spare room. He had locked it, even though their condo had never had a locked room before, but Masako knew where he kept the key. What she found was so mundane it made her ashamed of herself.

On Taro’s home desk, next to his baseball pennants and club ring, was a very small, very ordinary-looking flower. It had a sun lamp shining on it, which Masako found odd, but maybe the Mediterranean had longer days? She tried to replace everything as it was and hid the key again.

The next morning Taro said, “You were in my room last night.”

It wasn’t a question.

Masako opened her mouth, a thousand rehearsed excuses swilling around her tongue, but Taro raised his hand.

“Save it,” he said, “I thought you were better than this Masako.”

Her chest tightened. She wanted to be better, she wanted it more than anything.

“How can we be in a relationship if you can’t trust me?” he said, “did you like it when your first boyfriend didn’t trust you? Is that what you’re trying to do to me?”

Masako let out a little yelp. “No! No, I’m so sorry, I was—”

“Let me finish,” he said mildly, “I want this marriage to work. But it takes two to make a relationship. Can I count on you to try?”

Masako nodded, not trusting her own voice. Yes. Anything, yes.

Taro stood. Masako just barely came up to his chin, which he rested on top of her head right now.

“My poor little housewife,” he murmured, “I think you need to find a hobby. Get out of the house more.”

Masako nodded eagerly, taking his hand. “That’s true, we could find something together—”

Taro extracted his hand. “I meant something for _you_ to do on your own, love. I think you love me too much, that’s the problem. You want to monopolize my time, just like your first boyfriend.”

The thought of being anything like him made Masako sick to her stomach. She retracted like a snail.

“I will, dear.”

Taro beamed happily and pinched her cheek. He left for work. Masako spent the morning staring at the floor, dirty dishes piled in the sink.

 

D seemed genuinely surprise to see her. “Mrs. Akechi?”

“Masako, please.” She lingered on the threshold, unsure of what to ask. Or how. “Mr. D, can I…”

“Anything, of course.” He bowed low and ushered her into the shop.

Masako did not sit on the couch this time, merely stood with her hands hidden in her sleeves. D placed a cup before her.

“I take it things have not improved.”

Masako shook her head, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “I’m awful,” she whispered.

D laughed. “That,” he said, “I find very hard to believe.”

“Well I am.” She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve.

D studied her. “Have you ever hurt someone?”

“Once,” she gulped.

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

D spread his hands. Masako sighed.

“My first boyfriend was abusive. One day I was so angry that he wouldn’t stop hitting me I…I grabbed a pair of scissors and told him if he swung again I’d make him sorry.”

“And?”

“And he did.” Masako laughed a bitter little laugh. “He didn’t stop his fist so I held the scissors out in front of my face. I guess he was expecting me to drop them. I didn’t.”

D studied her. “And that makes you a bad person?”

“He had to go to the emergency room.”

“And that makes you a bad person?” D repeated. “How?”

“Well…” Masako searched for the words and found nothing.

“He chose to hit you. He chose to continue on his path regardless of what happened. How was his stubbornness your fault?”

“But I held the scissors,” Masako explained.

“But what if you hadn’t? What if you had ducked and they’d been on the shelf behind you? Would you be to blame then?”

Masako worried her lip with her teeth.

“Am I to assume from our conversations that your husband is only the second man you’ve ever been with?”

“Oh yeah.” Masako was relieved at the change of subject. “He told me he didn’t even mind.”

D cocked his head. “Mind what?”

“Well…that he wasn’t the only one I had been with,” Masako explained. Surely D saw that?”

“And having more than one man in your life is undesirable?” D asked. It was impossible to tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Well…most husbands, yeah.” Masako said. “Not Taro, though. He said my first boyfriend didn’t count, and I was practically a virgin on our wedding night.”

D nodded as if he’d come to a long-sought conclusion, and Masako smiled with relief.

“Do you mind if I show you something?” he asked.

“Oh sure!” she was eager to get away from discussion of her personal life.

D made her take her cup along for the ride. This time she savored the burn as she sipped it.

It took much less time to reach the greenhouse, and this time she took the opportunity to study the area a little more. It really truly looked as if the glass enclosure was alone in the middle of a flat, green plain, with no buildings in sight. She wondered how it was done.

D led her past all the exotic flowers, peeping up at her like little mouths. She recognized a few from last time, giving a clandestine little wave and then chiding herself for being silly.

D stood her in front of the Mediterranean box. Masako gasped, dribbling a little tea over the side of her cup.

“Everything’s dead!”

D nodded sadly. “There was a defect in the structure. May I tell you about it?”

Masako nodded, not taking her eyes off the planter. All the lovely blossoms were now brown and crispy, all except—

“There is another aspect to the golden narcissus that I forgot to mention last time. This particular strain only grows on one island because there is an active embargo against it. Once the golden narcissus takes root, it releases a poison to rid itself of competitive plants. I thought I had partitioned it off, but I found that this particular box had rotted, allowing the roots to escape. At one point the island itself was almost bare, nothing but these golden flowers lived.”

“How awful.”

D shrugged. “That is the nature of plants. They do what they must to survive and pass on their genetic material. It is neither good nor evil. It is simply survival.”

“Do you think the other plants see it that way?” Masako asked.

D gave another cryptic smile. “Good question. Have you thought about a hobby you might like to peruse yet?”

Masako turned to D with a gleam in her eye. “Botany.”

 

Taro seemed puzzled at the boxes she brought home. “What’s this? You moving out?”

Masako laughed. “No, silly! I’ve take up a hobby, just like you wanted! I’ll be cultivating rare plants, I’ve got a neat little starter kit!”

Taro laughed tolerantly. “Babe, I said you should find a _separate_ hobby—”

“And it is,” Masako interrupted. “I’ll be keeping my babies in their own little terrarium. Anyway, it’s not _really_ botany, keeping one little plant, is it?”

Something in Taro seemed to harden. “Well,” he managed, “if that’s how supportive you’re going to be of my hobbies, then…” he left.

Masako felt the sting a little less this time. There was too much to do to think about being sad. There were bulbs and seeds you had to start in the refrigerator and seeds you couldn’t put in direct sunlight and roots that looked dry and dead until you soaked them in water and so much more that she spent an exhausted afternoon sorting it all out. She went to bed early that night and slept like a rag doll. And the next. And the next.

Taro seemed to withdraw from her a little, but Masako found it didn’t have the same impact it would have had a few weeks ago. She was pursuing her own hobby, just like he’d asked. Was it her fault that he didn’t like the subject? Once in a while she caught him looking at her terrariums, untidy boxes of soil and tangles of plants already growing like mad. He offered to show her the right way to garden. She laughed it off.

“No thanks,” she said, “I’m having fun doing it the wrong way!”

Taro sulked off to his room.

Masako still had the occasional visit to D’s, to tell him how the plants were growing, and to enjoy the spicy tea she had developed a taste for. Once she saw the man who had bought the Rafflesia coming out of the shop with another odd flower, they shot each other thumbs-up.

Only occasionally did Masako have dream where she woke to go to the bathroom and stumbled upon her husband stroking his golden double and murmuring intimately. Once she even dreamed she could make out the words:

“ _You’re beautiful…beautiful_.”

And then one horrible morning, Masako woke up and found all her boxes brown and crispy. She had risen late, after Taro had gone to work, and bustled into the living room with a spray bottle in one hand.

“And how are we—”

She dropped the bottle, cracking the cheap plastic. Masako sat in the spreading puddle of water and sobbed, snot running out of her nose. It felt like she’d lost a child. No, many children.

What had happened? She paged through the manuals. Nothing. Nothing that would kill one would necessarily kill all the others.

 _Except poison_.

Masako stopped. Where had that thought come from?

 _From the room where your husband hides from you. From the room in your heart you keep shut and locked_.

Masako was preparing dinner when Taro made it home. He called a greeting, something he hadn’t done in weeks, and strolled over to look at Masako’s plants, something he’d never done.

“My goodness, what happened here?” he cried theatrically.

Masako said nothing. She grated garlic and sliced scallions.

Taro shook his head. “You should have let me help, dear. This could have been prevented.”

“How is your flower?” Masako asked.

She watched her husband’s back freeze and could predict the change of emotion in his face.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said breezily, “I’ve been keeping a close watch on it. Maybe my little Masako-chan should keep a closer eye on her pets, hmm?”

Masako dumped the noodles from the strainer. “Here’s dinner. I’m going out.”

Taro blocked the door with one long arm. “Out, sweetie? What do you mean, storming off like this? It’s very sad your plants are dead, but don’t take it out on me.”

Masako addressed the floor. She was afraid if she looked up she would start crying. “I’m not storming off. I need to contact the seller and see if there’s a virus or something I should be aware of.”

Still Taro barred her way. “Well, there’s no reason it can’t wait while my own little wife eats dinner with me. Come on,” he wheedled.

Something had happened. All the little gestures, all the little changes in his speech that had once endeared her now sickened her. She felt poisoned.

Masako reached up and physically removed her husband’s hand from the door. Even though she had used a relatively light touch, Taro leapt back, yelling.

“Oh god, Masako! How could you be so rough to your own husband? Are you going to start abusing me now?”

She shut the door on his question.


	3. Chapter 3

It was late, but she had a feeling D was still open. She was sure now; even if D did not run a brothel, he ran a very unusual business indeed. She knocked on the door, and almost hit a very ill-tempered looking young man furiously storming from D’s shop.

“Taizu! Don’t forget your papers!” D called, fanning the official looking documents after him.

He caught sight of Masako. “Oh dear.”

Masako’s lip wobbled.

D sighed. “The usual?”

Masako gulped at her tea, not caring how much it burned. D watched, frowning sympathetically.

“You are correct in assuming that they would not have all died at once,” he said. “Even the cold would not have killed the rhizomes, which I imported from Hokkaido.”

Masako nodded, sobbing through a mouthful of cookies.

D rested his chin on his knuckle. “My best guess would be some kind of poison. Do you have anything like that in your house?”

Masako chewed, looking down at the floor.

“Something easily mistaken for a fertilizer?”

Masako swallowed.

“I have a feeling you already know the circumstances wherein your plants met their demise.”

Masako sniffed wetly, feeling the most unglamorous she’d even been in her life.

D steepled his fingertips. “Have I ever told you the legend of the Narcissus?”

Masako swiped her hands across her eyes and shook her head.

“A long time ago in Greek mythology, there was a beautiful youth named Narcissus. Men and women alike fell for him, mortal and god. But he turned them down, sometimes cruelly, for he had no love in his heart for anything less beautiful than he. Then…”

Masako swallowed some more tea, the burn infusing her with warmth. “Then what?”

D smiled knowingly. “Narcissus looked down one day while bathing in a pool and finally found someone as beautiful as him. He called to it, and it called back. But when he went to kiss it, it dissolved.”

Masako gaped. “His reflection? He fell in love with his own reflection?”

D nodded. “Narcissus spent the rest of his days pining away for a love that could never be. In the spot where he wasted away, grew a tiny, golden flower.”

Masako blinked heavily. “That’s stupid,” she said. She felt as if she were drunk, that all her words were heavy and crass and she didn’t care.

D smiled mysteriously. “That’s one way of putting it, yes.”

“He couldn’t have settled for anything else?” she asked incredulously, “there was no one _almost_ as beautiful he could have given a chance?”

D pondered gravely. “Funny you should mention that. There was someone who loved him almost more deeply than himself. A beautiful nymph named Echo.”

Masako felt a chill creep down her arms. “What happened to her?”

“She pined too. She would not leave Narcissus’s side, even echoing his last words. Eventually she wasted away as well, leaving only her voice to repeat that last words of anyone who spoke.”

Masako clutched herself. She didn’t feel poisoned anymore, but she felt sore and tired. D smiled, suddenly cheery.

“One more for the road?” he asked, holding up the teapot.

 

Masako had been too anxious to sleep that night, so she knew when her husband rose early and left to the spare room. She rolled over and pretended to sleep. The anguished howl from down the hall shivered up and down her spine in a not-unpleasant way.

Taro’s footsteps thudded back to their room and he grabbed her arm, roughly turning her over.

“What did you do?”

Masako pretended to be sleepy. “Hmm? Dear?”

Taro, too furious for words, pointed behind him. Masako pretended to think, and then let her eyes light up.

“Oh,” she said, “I noticed you left that silly little lamp on last night when you went to bed. Well, I know you hate wasting electricity…” She trailed off into a yawn.

Taro’s mouth dropped open. He snagged her arm and dragged her to the spare room. Masako trailed behind, slightly giddy. She tried to keep the smile from her face as Taro pointed, first at the sad little stick in the pot, then at her.

“You,” Taro whispered, “you have taken from me. In killing this plant, you have hurt me. Do you understand that?”

Masako tilted her head. “ _Ano_ …not sure.” She giggled like an empty-headed girl. “Will Taro-sama please explain to me?”

Taro’s mouth worked soundlessly, hand twitched at his sides. He drew himself up to full height, towering over her, intimidating her.

All at once Masako dropped her act.

“Let me see if I get this right,” she hissed, “if I can touch the likes of the great Kintaro. This was a great, stupendous, marvelous, very special plant?” she smiled and leaned forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. “But it needs the lamp. Do you hear me? The plant. Needs. The lamp.”

Taro colored unflatteringly. Masako leaned back and put her hands on her hips.

“Maybe Taro-chan should keep a closer eye on his pets,” she said.

Being thrown backwards was a shock, but not an unfamiliar one. Luckily Masako hit the wall with the flat of her back; it merely knocked the wind out of her rather than injured her spine. She curled her arm around her sternum and laughed breathlessly.

“Is that the best you can do?”

Taro shook his head, staring. “You’re mad. Completely mad.”

“Yes dear,” Masako said, “don’t you know? You should never date fallen women. I only know hurt.”

This seemed to fortify Taro. “Fine,” he snapped, “if this is what you want—”

Masako felt his fist connect with her cheekbone the same second she heard the front door open.

Unbidden, the thought came: _good_.

The second hit connected just as the police officer rounded the corner.

“You bitch!” Taro spat.

The policeman shouted “Freeze!”

Masako smiled.

Taro admitted dumbly that he had been hitting his wife as they put the cuffs on him, excusing it by her madness. “She killed my plant,” he insisted as they led him out.

Masako could see that he could not even see how he was in the wrong, and he would confess because he did not know he was confessing.

The officer taking her deposition asked if she had friends.

“Yes,” she said, “one.”

 

Three months later and one divorce richer, Masako mounted the steps to D’s pet shop. Almost before she touched the knob, the door swung open, disclosing the store owner and a single, small terrarium.

“Ah, Miss Masako,” he said, “I found just the thing for you.”

He held it up for inspection. Inside lay a plant with strange leaves that looked hinged, ending in feather lashes.

“ _Dionaea muscipula_ , the Venus flytrap. It eats living things.”

Masako smiled at it. “Perfect.”


End file.
